Challenge
Challenge of the Week CCVI
You've found yourself standing at the gates of Hell, and you're given a typewriter and one page waiting in it. You have one short poem to either keep you out, or shove you in.
Angel Wings
Dusty angel wings,
Peeks out from the other side,
Of the tall, heavily guarded gates,
Fluttering like a lifeless bird,
Blacken and burned to the core,
Reaching out to offer you a way out,
You reach out,
And crush them till you hear no more of the ugly, pathetic cries of mercy,
Oops,
Who says you want out of hell?
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